


i can't always be

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just...drunk porn. for bina. because.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can't always be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherrybina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/gifts).



Derek likes thinking about fucking Stiles for a long time before he actually gets around to it. He likes contemplating it, telling Stiles how it’ll be, likes imagining it in clear detail: the pale stretch of Stiles’ skin, the bright flush of blood smeared high on his cheeks, the dark curl of hair around his dick. It drives Stiles crazy, makes him rut up against Derek’s hip and whine, but Derek never gives in before he wants to. And for all his pleading and all his begging… 

Stiles waits. 

He isn’t great at it, but he waits. He’s learning. Self-control doesn’t come easy for him, but when he wants something, he wants it straining forward, his whole body arcing towards his goal and Derek loves giving him exactly what he needs. Because he knows what Stiles needs, has known it since the first time he caught Stiles’ wrist in his and the bitter tang of Stiles’ arousal slipped past his defenses and nearly leveled him. 

He waits until the house is empty and quiet before he crowds Stiles against the wall, nosing at his neck and slipping his hands under the edge of Stiles’ t-shirt. 

“Such a good boy,” he says, sliding his hands into the hot dip of Stiles’ back. “Waiting for me.” 

“Oh god, oh fuck,” Stiles says, his head tipping back and thunking against the wall. His entire body shivers as Derek licks the sharp edge of his collarbone. “Yes, yes.” 

“My good boy.” 

“Your good boy,” Stiles echoes, and he’s already slipping down, slipping under, slipping away under Derek’s hands. His dick is a hot press against Derek’s hip, his arousal sweet and familiar in Derek’s throat. 

“Waiting for me,” Derek says. He slides his hands under the waistband of Stiles’ jeans, drags his fingers over that soft, unbroken skin. Stiles moans, so eager for it, so rich and gorgeous that Derek could get high off him. “Aren’t you? Such a good boy.” 

“Shit,” Stiles says. His hands twitch at his sides but he leaves them there, curled into loose fists, and oh, oh, he’s such a good boy. Waiting to touch. Waiting for Derek. Pride flares up in Derek’s chest. Stiles is so authentic, so perfectly Stiles that he shouldn’t be surprising, but he is. 

“Want to put my hands all over you,” Derek says, instead of blurting out the myriad of other thoughts that are tangled in his mouth. “Put my mouth all over you.” 

Stiles whines, high, tight, needy, his long, pale throat working around the sound, and Derek doesn’t have any choice but to spin Stiles around, get his jeans around his hips and his shirt around his shoulders. His back is a long, perfect line. 

“Yeah,” he says, more to himself that to anyone else as he warms his palm up on the rough denim of his jeans. “My good boy.” 

The first blow rocks Stiles forward, into the wall. He cries out, ass clenching down on nothing as Derek spanks him. In his jeans, Derek’s dick gives a hard throb, a spurt of slickness that coats his length and makes him ready. He pulls back again and hits Stiles again and again, laying the blows one on top of the other. Stiles skin goes pink, his ass warming beneath Derek’s palm. 

“Good?” 

“Good,” Stiles slurs, head dropping forward, ass jutting back. “So good. So good to me, Derek.” 

“So good,” Derek repeats, and then it’s a mantra, a chant he can’t wrap his mouth around, but one that plays through his head with a demented pace. So good, so good. So very, very good. He stops before Stiles comes, ignores the sound that wrenches out of Stiles’ throat. His palm tingles and his cock has made a mess of his briefs, so he’s wet, perfectly wet when he bends Stiles over, one hand bracing his chest and the other tilting his hips back as Derek feeds his cock into the perfect pink clench of Stiles ass. And Stiles takes him just like that, just the slick length of Derek’s dick easing the way. He braces himself on the wall and takes it, takes it all.


End file.
